


Play the Fool, Pity the Fool.

by Werepirechick



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Family Drama, Gen, Heavy Angst, Mental Health Issues, Post-Season/Series 03, Self-Acceptance, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tumblr Prompt, Two Shot, but don't we all, he lives don't worry, hi my name is 'i have issues' and i love torturing pure and good characters, i'm not That much of a monster, let mikey have depth let him be a real character, maybe not like this per say but still, prior to most events of season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 09:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8156899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werepirechick/pseuds/Werepirechick
Summary: Mikey sometimes wondered just when everything started to feel so tiring. Which moment was it, the moment where even small things like laughing or smiling, became heavy and difficult?





	1. Play the Fool

**Author's Note:**

> hey hi yo.  
> so i get the feeling that for everyone else, with the flashfic prompt from tumblr this month, they probably wrote really happy things, or like, tcest things i suppose. (the prompt was 'Living a Lie')
> 
> but me on the other hand.... yee, i went as far down into the sads and feels as i could. felt the need to exercise my angst writing again, its still my favorite thing to write after all.
> 
> enjoy the saddest mikey possible everyone, its a doozy.

 

Mikey sometimes wondered just when everything started to feel so tiring.

Which moment was it, the moment where even small things like laughing or smiling, became heavy and difficult?

He wondered, when was it that he stopped being able to crack a joke, and actually think it was funny. When did he stop enjoying his cartoons, his skate board, or any of his favorite things?

When did it get so hard to smile, and mean it?

He couldn’t remember, couldn’t pin point any specific moment or event that turned so many things sour for him. Because, even with all the fighting and nearly dying and losing so much, over and over, Mikey was _fine._ He was supposed to be fine, it was his job to be the happy one, the guy who made a joke and brought the team’s moral back up. To always have optimism, that everything would be alright, that they’d pull through against all the odds; him, his brothers, and their family.

They always got back what they lost, they always survived, and they always won the fight.

So why did it keep getting worse, that numbness in his chest, the invisible weight on his limbs, the crushing feeling of exhaustion.

_(He was so tired, when did he get so tired?)_

Mikey didn’t know, and as time went on... he stopped caring.

 

 

 

First time it happened, the first _real_ moment of the tiredness that Mikey can remember clearly, was after Leatherhead left them.

Mikey was there, he heard the last words Leatherhead said to them, just before vanishing into the Kraang portal.

_“Farewell, my friends.”_

Those words, and the sight of someone so dear to Mikey disappearing with such finality, stayed with him for months. Mikey might’ve acted like nothing was wrong, smiled and laughed and blithely watched cartoons while his family licked their wounds from a battle lost, but inside…

Inside, Mikey was hurting, hurting deeper than he’d ever before.

Leatherhead was gone, and as far as they knew, he was never coming back.

_(Months later, when Leatherhead finally did come back to them, scarred and aged by decades spent fighting the Kraang all alone, Mikey realized why he’d hurt so much. Because, seeing his friend distant and different from the croc he’d known, Mikey realized what could’ve been, if leatherhead had stayed, and what they lost, because he didn’t.)_

As soon as his family had gone to bed, as soon as Mikey’s door clicked shut for the night, he’d all but collapsed onto his dirty sheets. He’d been fighting for his life, for all their lives, and the ache in his arms and legs was normal. Familiar, and to be expected.

But the exhaustion, the pure _tiredness_ that hung like a weighted blanket over his whole body, that wasn’t normal. Not for him.

Mikey was the one who always had the extra oomph, the extra ten percent to give to a situation, he always had just a little bit more in his tank, ready to go whenever.

But… that night, and the days following… he just didn’t.

_(He pretended he did though, no one could tell he didn’t because he pretended just that well.)_

He’d felt like someone had left the tap open on his energy tank, and let all his fuel spill down the drain. There was none of the extra energy he usually had, and his heart hurt almost all the time. He hurt so, so badly, even if he didn’t say to his family.

April was in danger, and they had to put everything into keeping her and the city safe.

Mikey couldn’t bother his brothers with his hurt feelings; there wasn’t a place for that. And besides, Leatherhead was tough, he’d be fine. He had to be.

Mikey still had trouble though, putting sincerity into his smiles and bad jokes. It got easier, the more weeks that went by, but that tiredness…

That tiredness that very rarely stuck with him… it started to stay.

 

 

 

Most of the time Mikey was fine, he was utterly normal and exactly the person his family wanted _(needed)_ him to be.

The jokester, the go-to-guy for laughs and a good time, even when it was him being made into a joke. All bright smiles and goofy comments, the way he’d always been for as long as he could remember.

Then, their fights stopped being easy, stopped being adventures. Enemies got tougher, stakes got higher. They lost battles, and they won them; but sometimes, the two were difficult to tell apart.

People got hurt, both Mikey’s people and the ones they fought against. Narrower margins for error, less second chances, closer calls than they were used to.

Mikey kept smiling though, kept joking and laughing and did his best to not let it touch him. He was fine, everyone still came home at the end of the day, and their family was still together.

Then April left them, because they’d let her dad be mutated. Because they’d messed up- no, because _Mikey_ had messed up.

He was the one who kicked the Kraang into the control panel, he was the one who made the doors open, who let the canisters of mutagen fall onto the city below. Right onto Kirby and April.

He tried to own up to it, because honesty between friends was important, but it’d done the opposite of making April feel better. Her anger and grief exploding out at them, and Mikey reeling from her reaction, confused about what he’d said wrong.

She’d left, and Donnie was crushed.

Mikey’s tongue had felt thick and clumsy, and he hadn’t been able to find anything to say that would make the raw pain on his brother’s face go away.

He’d meant to say sorry to her, they’d never meant to release the mutagen onto the city. _He’d_ never meant to release the mutagen onto the city. But April wouldn’t hear anything about it, and walked out of their lives.

She came back of course, but not before the air of the lair turned stale and tepid. Not before the feeling of failure settled into Donnie, and made itself at home; drawing deeper lines into Donnnie's grimaces, adding weight to his already slumped shoulders.

Mikey didn’t know what to say, he _never_ knew what to say, in a situation like that. Make it lighter, make it funny, make them laugh; that’s what he did, that was his job.

Donnie didn’t laugh much during the time April was gone, and that left Mikey floundering.

_(He felt so bad, but he didn’t know how to express that. Didn’t have the right words like Leo or Donnie or even Raph, to really explain just how crappy he felt about it.)_

Mikey smiled harder, laughed louder, and tried to remind Donnie to eat, sleep, and move away from his desk at least once every few hours.

Every time he was brushed off though, every time his joke fell flat and Donnie stayed silent, Mikey’s guilt got worse. There was only one person who could bring April back, their terribly dear human friend they’d all come to accept as family, and that person was Donnie. Mikey was just the brother who told jokes or was a joke, he couldn’t help with that.

He went to bed feeling tired more often than not, bone deep tired that didn’t come from training or patrols. Mikey felt worn out by everything, even just normal stuff, and he wasn’t sure why.

Even after April came back, and everything returned to normal, Mikey still felt tired out. He tried sleeping more, skipping late night gatherings to catch an extra few hours of zzz’s. It was easier than he’d expected, sleeping longer than he normally did. Usually he’d stay awake forever after he lay down, not able to stop his thoughts from whirling away too loudly to quiet.

He slept, and he slept hard; dreamless and black. It didn’t do anything though; it just made him more tired.

Mikey stopped remembering what it felt like to not be tired, to run at one hundred percent, and to not have to force himself out of bed every day.

 

 

 

New York burned, their father disappeared, and Leo almost didn’t get back up.

_(Mikey briefly got Leatherhead back, and then he lost him again, along with everything else.)_

The ache, the tightness in his chest, it got worse in the months it took to get their home back. But everyone else was already acting tired and mopey, grieving and sad for what and who they’d lost. Mikey couldn’t let himself show that he was just as sad, just as worried about their home and family. They needed him to be the happy one, to keep their hopes up, even if he himself had trouble believing in that hope.

He got up every day, cooked breakfast, did the dishes, fed the chickens, bothered everyone else until they couldn’t stand him any longer and finally stopped looking so lost. If they were angry with him, if they were scolding him, then at least they weren’t sitting still and thinking about the sad things. The things that kept Mikey up at night, the things that turned his extra sleeping into no sleeping; long hours at night staring blankly into space and wondering if it was ever going to stop.

_(The hurt, the difficulty of everything, if they’d ever get to go home again...)_

Mikey smiled wide and cheerfully, found things to keep him busy, and pretended that he didn’t want to just lie down, to maybe not get back up again. Like Leo, maybe like their father.

_(He was so tired. So, so tired.)_

But Raph needed him, Donnie needed him, April and Casey and Leo needed him. Needed Mikey to be the goofy, joking guy; who refused to let them sit in their sad and upset feelings for too long. The guy who was always smiling.

_(Even if, in the private of his own thoughts, Mikey’s smiles had stopped feeling real.)_

Leo woke up, they went home, they got their city and father and everything back.

They fought, they won, and things went back to normal.

Mikey didn’t feel normal though. He was still tired, still hurting, still forcing his jokes and laughter.

Or, maybe this was normal for him. He didn’t remember anything else anymore.

_(So… tired…)_

No one noticed. They never did.

 

 

 

Mikey’s enemies, his family’s enemies, they came again and again. It got harder each time to crack a joke mid-fight, to share the cheer of victory after they pulled through.

Mikey slept lots, or not at all, and forced himself out of bed each new day. Plastered his best smile on, and pretended he really was the person his family wanted him to be. Pretending all through play, patrol, and training; constantly pushing the static like exhaustion to the back of his mind, where it belonged.

_“You can do this,”_ He said to himself in the mirror sometimes, tying his orange mask over the dark circles under his eyes. _“Be the happy guy, ‘cause that’s who you are, dude. The cute one, the goofy one, the guy who smiles. You can do it.”_

Mikey grinned till his cheeks were sore, laughed himself hoarse even if no one else laughed with him, and kept moving forwards.

_(If he stopped now, he felt like he wouldn’t be able to start again.)_

Shredder came for them, with his human thugs, robots, mutants, and even their own sister. Karai controlled by Shredder to kill them, each of their deaths specifically crafted for them.

Mikey struggled under his restraints if only because a double mutation didn’t mean death, it just meant insanity. Loss of control and vicious new mutations, already messed up DNA twisted further. If he hadn’t escaped, hadn’t been rescued, Mikey probably wouldn’t have stayed himself.

_(If it had been designed to be quick like Leo’s, if Mikey’s death had been meant to be delivered in one swift swing, maybe he wouldn’t have struggled at all.)_

When they got to Donnie, Mikey’s closest older brother being shocked over and over, Mikey hadn’t hesitated to grab the helmet. It hurt, electricity stinging up and down his nerves, but it was worth it. Donnie was alright, he was safe, and really? The pain the wires gave Mikey was barely anything; he’d been through so much worse.

_(Alone in dimension-X. Months and months alone in a very alien world, trapped without a way home. He hadn’t known if his family would ever actually come, if they were even thinking of him…_

_Just him, his thoughts, and the dangerous creatures that called the dimension home._

_He’d fended for himself all that time, and it had only been the hope that his brothers would come for him that kept Mikey from doing anything rash._

_They had come for him, after what felt like an eternity, but by then…_

_Mikey had been alone with himself for a very, very long time.)_

 

 

 

The world ended, Mikey saw his father die, and they lost everything all over again.

The professor offered them another chance, to save their home one more time. To be the heroes that earth needed, be the heroes that the _galaxy_ needed.

They took that chance, clutching it close and buckling down to fight an entire empire. Six teenagers and a fugitive robot, they were all the hope the earth had.

In space, it was almost easier for Mikey; to forget the tiredness in his body, and by then, his mind too.

Too many things to see, too many worlds to explore; it was hard for his bad thoughts to creep in when he was gallivanting through space, just like every sci-fi action hero ever had.

It was only in the quiet moments, between each planet and fight, that Mikey had a hard time.

If he stayed still too long, let his bottled up and supressed thoughts roam free, Mikey would feel almost too tired to get back up, to keep moving forwards.

_“Keep. Smiling.”_ He whispered forcefully to himself in the mirror, trying to erase the tired anger in his expression.

Mikey turned on bad cartoons, ate hot familiar foods, and did his best to drown out the rising tide of exhaustion and desire to just… _give up._

It wasn’t fair; they kept losing their home and family over and over again.

_(He was tired, so tired, and he couldn’t see an end anymore.)_

When they got the earth back, who was to say it would stay there? There were so many other worlds out there, and earth was so primitive in comparison. And even if they got it back, went home, and let the memories of space fade away, there were still people down there trying to hurt them.

Shredder would be there still, _was_ _still there that very moment_ , down on the past/present earth.

The thought of that man, and what he’d done to Mikey’s father, made it very hard for him to keep his smile.

It made it even harder to push down on the anger Mikey kept inside, along with every other unpleasant feeling he hated. Sometimes, when that anger got too bright for him, Mikey would bite his lip until it bled and count the drops until he stopped being angry.

He wasn’t Raph. Even if the numbness in Mikey’s chest and mind had diminished those feelings of anger, Mikey was worried that once he let that anger out… he wouldn’t be able to stop like Raph could. That it would take him and what control he had left and burn it all up.

Space was deep and dark though, and full of distractions all too willing to drag Mikey’s thoughts away from himself.

They fought a hundred different opponents, scoured world after world for clues to the black hole generator, and Mikey let each experience bury his thoughts and feelings further.

He watched TV louder, ate twice what his appetite asked of him, and smiled every second he was with his family. Anything and everything to keep his thoughts quiet, the dull static a soft buzz rather than a roar that overwhelmed his senses.

Mikey kept going and going and going, not stopping for even a second because he knew, _he knew_ , that if he stopped now, he’d never start again.

_(He didn’t sleep, he couldn’t sleep anymore, just pretending to rest like he pretended everything else. If Mikey lay down and let himself get comfortable, he was scared he’d be unable to get up again._

_Mikey slept on the floor of the ship, cold and uncomfortable. It kept him vaguely awake almost all the time, and kept him from sinking too deeply into his mind._

_With his mask on, made with orange fabric and a cheery smile, no one noticed his exhaustion.)_

They found the pieces of their salvation, lost them, and almost lost Leo too. Again, just like they’d lost everything else.

Mikey wasn’t sure what he’d have done if Donnie hadn’t restarted their eldest brother’s heart, he wasn’t sure if he could’ve held it together after a blow like that. They’d already lost their father, their whole world; he couldn’t lose his big brother too.

Leo got back up though, so Mikey kept going as well.

They saved the earth, saved their families, and it was only because his father needed him right then, that Mikey didn’t go after the hobbling Shredder and stick a kunai in his neck.

They went home, shared their adventures with their father, and slept in their own rooms for the first time in months.

Mikey lay awake on his bed, the dark ceiling above him offering nothing to his insomnia.

Things were fixed, everything was fine again. They were home, they were safe, they were _fine._

So why wasn’t _Mikey_ fine?

 

 

 

_(He didn’t remember what ‘fine’ actually felt like anymore. All he had left was false cheer and numbness and raw exhaustion._

_Mikey desperately wanted to be fine, to be the person everyone thought he was… but he wasn’t._

_He hadn’t been either of those things, not for a very long time.)_

 

 

 

Fights started again, with the Shredder’s disappearance, but Mikey found he was unable to care.

It was just the same thing, the same cycle as the one they’d been repeating for years. Fight, win, let the bad guys go. Fight the bad guys when they came back, let them go again. Rinse and repeat.

Monotony, same thing again and again, the only change was the cast of characters. Purple Dragons, regular petty thieves, gangsters and wayward branches of black market crime…

At least in space, it was always different; the fights, the stage, the enemies. At least in space, Mikey could avoid his thoughts because he couldn’t stop to _think._

Now he was back, trapped in the frame work of his old life; from before he saw what was out there, before he’d experienced what he had.

It was like they’d never left. The same fights they’d been having with each other their whole lives picking back up now that the danger was gone.

Leo would snap at random moments and break the mold of a perfect son, because the pressure of being an eldest and leader would get to him, no matter how much he denied it. Raph would lash out at everyone, because he felt stilted by earth’s limitations, because he missed the freedom of space and the person he’d met there. Donnie was pliant and silent, like he had been for months now, letting Leo and Raph’s arguing flow over him and ignoring the drama they created; keeping everything that was heaped on him quiet and locked away.

Mikey tried, he really did, to assume the old position he’d held on earth. Be funny, be loud, be _happy_. The comedic relief for his family, giving them a reason to smile and laugh with him. _(To smile and laugh_ at _him.)_

_“Keep. Smiling.”_ He whispered angrily at himself, catching his expression slipping into blankness during a patrol, in a moment when he was supposed to be laughing loudly and joking right along with his brothers.

He smiled, he laughed, and he felt hollower than he ever had before.

_(Mikey was so tired…)_

The brief moments of happiness stopped being enough, those few seconds Mikey felt like he could breathe and smile and laugh like he used to. They stopped coming at all, until it was all fake. Not a single laugh was genuine, not a single word out of his mouth true.

Mikey was tired, too tired to even express the exhaustion anymore.

His smile slipped quicker and quicker, until one night, alone in his room, he couldn’t make one anymore.

Slowly blinking at the dimly lit ceiling, numbly wondering if he should get up or not, Mikey finally fell low enough for a thought, one he’d been hiding from for months, to surface fully.

_Wouldn’t it be easier, to just end it?_

With that one freed, the others followed, the dam blocking them finally breaking.

_Like sleeping, but for good…_

_No more pain, no more hurting…_

_Everything was too difficult anyways, it’d be easy to let go now…_

_A poison, a blade, anything really, Mikey knew a hundred and some ways to kill someone, how hard would it be to turn it towards himself…?_

_For it to finally stop…_

_An end, to everything…_

_If he just let go…_

Mikey lay on his bed, and let those thoughts spread and breed in his mind. Much later that night, he finally pulled his scattered self together enough to decide.

It sounded so nice, to just let go. No more forcing himself to laugh, or smile, or joke when nothing was funny. No more dragging himself through the day, vaguely wondering in the next fight would finally be his last. No more tiredness, he could rest for good.

It was the next morning, staring blankly at the ceiling still and having slept not a wink, when Mikey finally decided to put it to an end.

_(He couldn’t do it anymore. He’d lost the fight, and the will to even try.)_

He waited until evening came, until his family was busy and occupied with their own lives, and then he stole away into the night.

_(They never noticed him anyways, it almost too easy.)_

Mikey left only a note, and didn’t look back.

 

 

 

“Hey, you guys seen Mikey?” Leo asked, noticing their youngest brother wasn't suiting up with them. “It’s almost time for patrol, and I don’t want him holding us up.”

“I’ve been in my lab all evening, haven’t seen him,” Donnie replied, sliding his collection of shurikan into his belt pouch.

“Idiot must still be sleeping,” Raph commented without real heat, finishing his extra hand wrappings for patrol. “I’ll go kick ‘im out of bed, but I won’t be nice about it.”

“I don’t really expect you to be,” Leo said as Raph left the dojo. And he really didn’t, since Mikey did this so often. Slept too long and made them late, or stayed up too late and couldn’t focus on anything because of sleep deprivation. It got annoying after the umpteenth time in a row, having to go track down a distracted Mikey who just couldn’t seem to manage his days.

Leo and Donnie had just finished gearing up, exiting the dojo and talking amicably as they waited for Raph to come back with a bleary eyed Mikey, when Raph had come running from down the hall, a sheet of paper clutched in his hand.

Raph’s hands shook, something they never, ever did, as he held the note out to them. On the paper was Mikey’s messy scrawl, a short set of paragraphs addressed to them all.

 

_hey guys_

_sorry to drop this on you, but im going away now. for good and stuff. a permanent vacation, the long sleep, punching my own card, that sorta thing._  
youre probably not gonna believe me though, so whatever. believe me or dont, doesnt matter to me.  
i dont really know what people are supposed to put in these but i guess i dont got much to say anyways.  
just take good care of ice cream kitty for me, and make sure you tell leatherhead what happened. i dont wanna leave the guy wondering where i went. sucks majorly when someone does that.

_i guess im just sorry in general. i tried really hard to keep it together but... guess i wasnt up to the challenge. im just really really tired now, and im kinda done with everything. its just too much, you know? sometimes you just gotta call it quits.  
thanks for being my bros, and dont blame yourselves kay? this was my choice, and it wasnt because of any of you guys. its just me and my messed up head calling the shots here._

_wish i coulda been a better brother to you guys, sorry for everything i guess. including this._

_tell dad i love him for me. plus april and casey and everyone else too._

_love you guys a lot, i hope you live a good life.  
dont look for me._

_\- mikey_

 

“Donnie-” Leo started, but Donnie already gone, running for his t-phone on the couch cushions.

“He's not answering his cell,” Raph said hoarsely, still staring at the crinkled paper in Leo's hands. “He always answers his t-phone no matter what, he turned it off and now he won't answer it at all. Leo, d'you think we'll be able to find him-?”

“We will. We'll find him,” Leo said firmly. “He can't have gone far.”

“I've got his t-phone’s location,” Donnie said, fingers still flying over the screen of his cell. “He's about nine miles from here. If we take the party wagon, we can be there in less than ten-”

“Let's go then,” Leo cut Donnie off, already heading for the tunnel where their vehicles were stored. “We'll call master Splinter on the way, there's no time to stop and explain. We need to get there before Mikey does something stupid even for him.”

“Fucking idiot,” Raph spat, running for the party wagon. “What the hell does he think he's doin', running off like a moron and not even _talking_ to us about this.”

“Shut up and drive,” Donnie hissed, getting into the passenger's seat and slamming the door. “Mikey's signal isn't moving at all, and I don't like what that could mean.”

Leo floored it, tires screaming as he took the corners too sharply. Raph in the back of the van cussed at him, trying to keep the conversation going with their father as well as backseat drive at Leo. Donnie berated Leo every time he forced the van to make a difficult turn, Donnie's voice tight and pinched. Leo snapped at them both to shut up, he didn't have time to deal with their problems _and_ Mikey’s.

They weren't really angry though, they were _scared_. They were terrified and trying to cover it with anger instead.

They could already be too late, hours and hours too late, because they hadn’t bothered to even _check_ on Mikey.

Leo got them to the foot of the tall building Mikey's signal came from in less than ten minutes, black tire marks left behind and he threw the brakes and burst out the door. Two other slamming doors echoed his, and that meant Donnie and Raph were right behind him.

They found Mikey on the roof, on the opposite side of the flat cement area. Their youngest brother was standing on the very edge of the nine story building, wind blowing the tips of his mask every which way as he stood motionless.

Mikey had been standing there for what felt like hours, and his feet ached from the harsh stone he stood on. The sidewalk, illuminated by the streetlights, glowed invitingly up at him. He could survive a lot of heavy hits, but there was no way his shell or skull would stay intact against that concrete. All he had to do was take a step forwards.

He'd been trying to convince himself to finally just jump, to put an end to the exhaustion and hurt that clung to every part of him.

_(He was so tired, and he'd been tired for so long.)_

_“Mikey!”_

_(He just wanted to feel okay again, and it seemed-)_

“MIKEY, _WAIT!”_

_(-the only way to do that-)_

“Mikey, please, stop it, we can talk about this, okay? Please-”

_(-was to go to sleep and never wake up again.)_

“-let us help you,” Donnie's quavering voice said behind him. “Just. Just step off the ledge and we can go home, alright? Sensei's waiting for us there, all _four_ of us, a-and we can talk about this there. S-So please, come down from there, okay?”

“Mikey,” Leo's firm, but scared voice said. “I want you to step backwards, alright? Just two steps, that's all I ask. Just two, and then we can sort this out.”

“C'mon Mikey, listen to us,” Raph said, a pleading note in his voice. “Whatever's botherin' you, we'll fix it, I promise. Whatever's happening in that head of yours right now, I want you tell us. C'mon, please-”

“-let us help you,” Leo said, finishing Raph's plea.

Mikey blinked slowly, feeling numb everywhere inside his body. The static in his mind had quieted slightly with the appearance of his brothers, but... it was still there, the aching tiredness that had grown in every bit of him.

“Please Mikey,” Leo said desperately. “Just two steps, _please._ ”

_(So tired.)_

Mikey raised his head, looking out at the dark and light horizon of his city. His home, the place he'd saved and defended so many times. Their home.

Mikey turned around in one movement, remaining on the edge, and faced his three brothers.

Leo's eyes were wide and he looked even more scared than he had after their father died. Raph kept twitching his feet, like he wanted to dash at Mikey and was barely holding himself in place. Donnie was pale and his breaths were shallow, hands raised in a calming gesture.

So they'd come for him after all.

_(They’d taken so long before, why did they have to be so quick this time?)_

“One more step, okay Mikey?” Leo said softly, eyes darting between Mikey and the yawning drop behind him. “Just one more, please.”

Mikey closed his eyes, and listened to the sound of traffic around them and to the sound of his brothers' panicked breaths.

_(He just wanted to rest.)_

Mikey opened his eyes again, and he smiled as softly as Leo's voice.

_(No more pain.)_

“I'm really sorry guys-”

_(No more exhaustion.)_

“-I'm just not up to it anymore,” Mikey said, feeling oddly at peace even as his brothers went shades lighter with horror. “I love you all so much, but-”

_(An ending, finally.)_

“-I just can't. Not anymore.”

“Mikey,” Leo whispered, looking every bit the scared kid he'd covered up over the years. “Don't do this.”

_(He was just so...)_

Mikey closed his eyes again, and pictured his family together and happy. No war scars or stress lines, everyone smiling and healthy again.

_(...tired...)_

“I'm sorry,” Mikey said, opening his eyes on last time as he took the second step Leo had wanted.

Mikey didn't see their horror as he stepped backwards, keeping his eyes on the faint stars above the city. Didn't see the abject terror in Leo's eyes, or the desperate tears slip from Donnie's; didn't hear their screams, or Raph's bellowed denial.

Mikey fell backwards into thin air, high above the ground. As the air whistled past him, he closed his eyes.

_(Finally... he could rest.)_

Mikey fell, and he'd never felt lighter.

 

 


	2. Pity the Fool.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a split second, Mikey was weighed down by nothing, and felt free.
> 
> Then, a steel strong grasp encircled his waist, and gravity caught up with him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoilers, he lives.

 

 

Mikey fell, and every inch of his body felt light again. The tiredness evaporated and the hurt vanished as he plummeted downwards.

For a split second, Mikey was weighed down by nothing, and felt free.

Then, a steel strong grasp encircled his waist, and gravity caught up with him again.

His body jolted painfully, his descent abruptly cut off, and he hung limply in his brother’s unrelenting grip. He heard the sound of a grappling hook whirring as it hauled them up, and Mikey watched as the ground below got further and further away from him.

Raph’s muscles strained as he pushed Mikey into Donnie and Leo’s waiting arms, hands and words flying all over Mikey as they checked him for injuries. One of them was shouting, or maybe all three of them were. Their hands and arms and worried eyes skittered up and down Mikey’s body, and he found himself sinking deeper into the numbness than he’d ever before.

He failed. He failed and he was still alive.

_(He couldn’t even kill himself right.)_

Mikey didn’t respond to his brothers, ignoring every question asked, every concerned hug.

_(Why hadn’t he just jumped sooner? He’d be dead and free if he’d just had the guts to do it.)_

Mikey didn’t say a single thing as his brothers took him away from the edge, their hands like shackles around his arms to keep him from jumping off the fire escape. As if he would, his one step had used up everything he had left. He’d had one chance and he’d messed it up, like he messed up everything else.

Mikey let his brothers lead him into the party wagon, and let them drive him home.

The tiredness came rushing back, enveloping every part of him and dragging him down, down, down.

Mikey barely felt his father’s soft touch, didn’t hear anything beyond static as his family questioned him. Mikey kept his mouth shut and his eyes glued to the stone floor, they wanted explanations to things he couldn’t and wouldn’t explain.

_(He didn’t know why, the reason his whole body felt like one big ache, or why he wanted to die. He’d been asking himself for months, and he still had no answer.)_

Someone screamed at him, someone whispered and pleaded to him, someone tried to wrap him in a comforting hug and Mikey didn’t raise his arms to return it.

Someone cried onto his shoulder, while Mikey’s eyes stayed dry and vacant.

He was numb and tired and he had nothing left. He let his family go on and on, not hearing a word of what they asked or said to him. Mikey felt detached from reality, more than he usually was, and the people around him became a part of the buzzing static.

He wasn’t allowed to go to his room, or to be alone. His father pulled out an old futon and put it in the middle of the dojo floor. His father and Sensei knelt before the dojo’s tree, feet from the bed, and Mikey was told to lie down on it

He did, and he stayed lying down, even as the shouting and arguing grew outside the dojo. His brothers, furious with Mikey, furious at his lack of responses, furious that he’d even dared to try this.

_(Of course they’d care, just when Mikey had stopped.)_

Wrapped up in his mind numbing misery, Mikey didn’t hear what was being said, just that it was loud and it was angry. Probably with him, it was always aimed at him.

_(He wished he’d jumped sooner.)_

 

 

 

They weren’t mad at him, his brothers were mad at themselves and each other.

Confused and scared, shouting at one another because they needed to find out who was to blame. Who pushed Mikey to jump like that, who was the one who’d driven him so far?

How had they missed this, how had they missed the blank and hollow look in Mikey’s eyes, _how had they not seen him suffering?_

They were supposed to watch out for him, keep him safe, keep him happy. And they’d failed; they’d failed so badly their brother had almost _died_.

He was their little brother, their hopeful, cheerful, excitable brother. What had happened to him, to turn him into that exhausted and despondent individual, the person that wouldn’t even look them in the eyes?

They screamed and yelled and blamed each other until their father’s voice rose above theirs, silencing them all.

The three of them separated, banished to their own corners of the lair.

Mikey remained under their father’s unwavering gaze, secure and watched, while the rest of them restlessly paced their home.

They didn’t understand, not even a little. This was a complete blindside blow, and none of them knew how to react.

Locked in their rooms, or their labs, Mikey’s older brothers agonized in helplessness.

They had no idea how to fix this, and that’s what terrified them the most.

 

 

 

“Eat something, Mikey, you gotta keep your strength up,” Raph said, holding the plate out to Mikey. “You won’t get better if you don’t.”

Mikey blinked slowly at the plate of sandwiches, and at the cup of water in Raph’s other hand. Neither of them looked appealing, not even remotely appetizing to him. Nothing seemed appetizing anymore; he’d only kept eating because it was expected of him, because he’d still been trying to be normal back then.

_(He’d been found out though, and now there was no point in trying to be anything anymore.)_

Mikey turned over in the bed he’d been restricted to, facing the back of the dojo rather than his brother.

“C’mon Mikey, it’s been a whole day since you ate anything. Take a bite at least.”

Mikey shut his eyes, and let the tide of black drag him back down. He hadn’t spoken a word since his brothers brought him home, and he didn’t intend to start again now.

He heard Raph’s hissed fury and the stomp of his feet as he left the dojo. No slam of a door though, Sensei had removed the panels of the room so Mikey couldn’t hide from sight.

His family wouldn’t leave him alone, at least one of them nearby at all times. Once, Mikey would have relished in the chance to always have a companion, someone to talk and goof around with whenever he wanted.

Now he just wanted to be left alone.

 

 

 

April and Casey came, and with them, more shouting and concerned eyes.

They’d both looked so frustrated and grief stricken, it’d stirred something briefly in Mikey’s chest, before it extinguished itself again in the numbness. They looked just like his brothers did, like his father did.

_(Sad and confused, because the Mikey in front of them wasn’t the one they knew.)_

He let April hug him, let her cry and scream at him, and he didn’t react once. He’d disappointed her again, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

Casey acted like Leo did, trying to make things normal and get a laugh out of Mikey. And when Mikey hadn’t laughed, hadn’t acknowledged his presence, Casey had trailed off into silence; just… staring at Mikey, like he was a stranger.

_(Had they ever really known him to begin with? Did Mikey even know who he was anymore?)_

Casey left with Raph, April with Donnie, and silence fell on the room again.

_(He didn’t have an answer to that question.)_

Leo and their father were just outside the room, talking quietly like they had for the past day. About Mikey, about what they were going to do with him.

Mikey lay in his bed, wishing he’d been braver, and stayed silent.

 

 

 

Donnie didn’t sleep.

He stayed awake, staring at his computer screen, compiling as many references and articles on depression he could.

They’d missed so many signs, every single tip off that could’ve told them that Mikey wasn’t okay. Irregular sleep patterns, over eating or under eating, reckless behavior and self-destructive choices, concentration problems… the lists went on and on, and Donnie’s eyes burned from glaring at the screen.

They’d thought it was normal, _Donnie_ had thought it was normal. The erratic everything about Mikey, that’s just who he was. Mikey had always been odd, always been different, so none of it had stood out against the typical weirdness that came from Donnie’s only little brother.

He stumbled upon a quote, poking through self-help manuals, and tips for both sufferers and the relatives of an afflicted individual. It was short, anonymous, and Donnie had seen it before in passing. But he hadn’t taken its meaning in then, because it hadn’t meant anything to him.

_"The loneliest people are the kindest. The saddest people smile the brightest. The most damaged people are the wisest. All because they do not wish to see anyone else suffer the way they do.''-Anonymous_

It meant a lot more now.

Mikey always extended the first hand of friendship, always had a joke and a smile to share, and always drew each of his brothers out of their darkest moments and back into the warmth of light, of their family.

Donnie sat for a long time, staring at the screen, and wishing he could go back in time and erase every moment he’d ever brushed his brother off. He wanted to slap his past self, for not seeing how badly Mikey was struggling, for not seeing how hurt he must have been each time Donnie locked him out.

Donnie’s eyes burned with more than exhaustion, and he let no one hear the hitch in his breathing, alone in the darkness of his lab.

 

 

Days went by.

Mikey stayed silent.

 

 

Leo managed to get Mikey to leave the bed he lay in, sitting him on the couch and dragging the television closer than normal.

Leo sat with him, watching the VHS tapes of Mikey’s favorite movies. Leo laughed and joked and tried to get Mikey to do the same.

Mikey stared listlessly into space, and probably heard nothing from the flickering screen.

He still wouldn’t talk to Leo, any of their brothers, or even their father. Unresponsive and barely eating, Mikey hadn’t reacted to anything since they’d found him on that roof top.

_“I’m sorry.”_

It haunted Leo every second of the day, that hopeless apology just as Mikey had stepped backwards. He saw that scene in his mind every time he closed his eyes, and heard those words over and over along with it.

_“I’m sorry.”_

Leo put an arm across his brother’s shoulders, and told him he was here, that their family wanted to help him. They just needed Mikey to let them in.

Mikey shrugged off Leo’s arm, and left the pit, going and lying down on his futon again.

Colors spilled out from the television, shining brightly in the dim and dark lair, and Leo sat alone on the couch, feeling lost and hurt.

He didn’t know how to reach Mikey anymore, and maybe he never had.

_“I’m sorry.”_

Leo wasn’t sure whose voice in his head that came from anymore.

 

 

 

A week went by.

Mikey stayed silent.

 

 

 

Raph stayed out late, every single night.

He actively sought out fights, more than he usually did. Anything and anyone was game, Raph pushed himself outside their usual territory and into the heart of the real ghettos. The places he knew for a fact, that he’d find a fight.

Sometimes he ran with Casey, the two of them putting fear into hearts of good for nothing thugs and street criminals.

A lot of the time though, Raph went out alone.

Just him, his sais, and whichever nose he got to break that night.

It was better than staying in the lair, where even the air felt heavy and strangling. Where his father and brothers crept tip-toe around the dojo, tense and distraught. Where Mikey was quiet and empty and _wrong_ … and nothing at all like the brother Raph had known his whole life.

Raph fought until he was too tired to stand anymore, bruised and bloody like he needed to be, and then he’d go home and hide in his room. Away from Mikey’s bedside, away from the fog of exhaustion and tepid emotions, away from the sight of his blank and lifeless brother.

Raph put holes in his walls, cuts on his knuckles, and screamed until the pressure in his head stopped.

Sometimes he’d work up enough hope that Mikey might respond this time round, and he’d visit his brother.

Mikey faced away from him each time, and never replied no matter what Raph said.

Raph spent a lot of time outside the lair, trying to find control again, searching for solutions in himself and violence.

Countless broken bones and drops of red spilled later, he still felt like he had none.

 

 

 

Two weeks.

Silence.

 

 

 

Splinter fed his boy, kept him comfortable, and continued talking to him. Splinter was always present, always nearby, just in case his son needed him, for any reason at all.

Michelangelo’s silence disturbed him deeply, as much as the act he’d tried to commit did. There was no honor in fruitless suicide, a warrior was meant to die on the battle field, a proud ninjutsu master until his final breath.

But Splinter did not care about honor anymore; he simply wanted his son to smile again.

As his three older sons slowly broke into pieces, like their youngest brother had, Splinter did his best to not follow their path as well.

Splinter was gentle, and he listened to every bit of advice Donatello came to him with, the two of them trying new ways to draw Michelangelo out of his shell. Splinter read every book April brought him, memorizing the texts inside that might help him save his son. Splinter stayed close to Michelangelo’s side, reminding him he was here, that he loved him, and if he would only ask… they would do anything for him.

Splinter would move mountains, rend the sky, and part the seas, if only for his youngest and brightest child to come back to him.

Michelangelo stayed quiet, ate only bits of what they brought him, and never went further than the washroom.

Splinter’s heart cracked deeper every day, because even if Raphael had saved his brother’s life, Michelangelo had fallen regardless.

 

 

Two and a half weeks…

 

 

April and Casey brought Mikey gifts. Huge and soft blankets, five of his favorite pizzas, and every one of the most up to date movies, just released and still in plastic.

Mikey let his family bundle him up, place him in a beanbag, and put a plate on his lap while they started the first movie. They were all there; Leo, Donnie, Raph, Casey, April, and Splinter. They talked and laughed and acted as though Mikey hadn’t stopped speaking for over two weeks. Like everything was normal again.

Mikey ate two slices of pizza, enjoyed the warmth of the blankets, and managed to pay attention to at least half of the evening.

_(He was still so tired…)_

The static in his brain lifted enough for him to think by the fourth movie, and the numbness receded ever so slightly as his family surrounded him in familiar banter.

_(…but it didn’t hurt as badly…)_

When they finally turned the screen off, and as April and Casey started to leave, Mikey stood up and put a feather light hand on April’s arm. She stopped, and turned to look at him expectantly.

_(….because they were here for him.)_

“…thanks,” Mikey whispered, voice dry and quiet. Thanks for bringing their family together for this, for making them smile while he just made them sad… and thanks for giving him a moment without hurting.

April smiled, both grief and relief in her eyes, no doubt hearing his subtext loud and clear. “You’re welcome, Mikey.”

Mikey nodded once, and then went back to his futon, leaving the others to finish saying goodnight.

His father came and stroked soft pads across his forehead, and told Mikey that he was proud of him, that they all were. Mikey didn’t respond, he’d used up his words for the night.

Splinter stayed with him until he drifted off, and was there when he next woke.

 

 

 

Three weeks…

 

 

Leo did his best to treat Mikey normally, like Donnie had told them all to. Keep Mikey involved, make sure he knew they were there for him, and remind him of his favorite activities.

It was hard; to talk to Mikey when he rarely responded, barely showed any emotion. Leo kept at it though, spending his spare time with Mikey, and trying to interest his brother in things he’d loved.

Leo cooked, as bad as he was at it, and tried to make Mikey’s favorite dishes. He did Mikey’s share of chores, and talked with his brother the whole time; Mikey’s occasional shrugs and nods made up his contribution, but Leo didn’t mind.

He watched cartoons with Mikey, sometimes asked him if he wanted to try a video game. Mikey would decline with a shake of his head, and Leo would put another disc or tape into the television.

Leo didn’t pressure his brother, because Donnie had told him that could do the exact opposite of helping Mikey. Until Mikey was ready, they had to be patient.

It still hurt Leo though, turning around and expecting Mikey to be beaming or laughing or doing _something_ other than staring indifferently into nothing.

Leo didn’t go out on patrol, didn’t leave the lair at all, because he was scared that if he took his eyes off Mikey again, it’d be the last time he did.

 

 

 

Three and half weeks after Mikey jumped, he finally answered his father’s question.

“I got tired and… I guess I stayed tired,” Mikey said softly, sitting on the edge above the pool. “I didn’t… I didn’t see point anymore. I just wanted it to stop.”

“Wanted what to stop?” His father asked gently, putting a hand on Mikey’s blanket covered shell.

Mikey shrugged, watching the light in the water reflect upwards. “Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.”

“…do you still wish for it stop, my son?”

Mikey thought about the weight on his limbs, how his heart still felt like lead, and his chest sometimes emptied itself of air without warning.

_(He thought about the sidewalk below, and how close he’d gotten to meeting it.)_

“I don’t know,” He whispered, the truth harder to say than he imagined.

Splinter pulled him into a hug, and Mikey lifted his arms enough to clasp weakly around his father’s waist.

 

 

 

It took a month before Raph finally snapped. He was tired of the stale and stressed atmosphere in his home, tired of waiting for answers and not getting any.

Mikey was sitting on the couch, wrapped in the blanket April had bought for him, and he was alone for once. Leo was in the kitchen; popping popcorn for them both, acting like the doting brother he’d been all month.

Mikey had every comfort available to him, their father’s undivided attention, and no one had asked him to do anything beyond eating and sleeping. And Raph was tired of it, because Mikey still looked broken, still acted the same way he had since they’d brought him home, despite all their efforts.

Mikey should’ve been better by now, should’ve gone back to his normal self and stopped looking like he really _had_ died.

Raph didn’t understand it, and that made him all the angrier.

“Get up,” Raph said to Mikey, who glanced towards him and emoted the slightest bit of confusion. Raph clenched his fists, throwing away the caution he’d been warned of for weeks. “Get up, and stop moping. Stop acting like you’re so poor-hard-done-by, and go back to normal already. I’m sick of it.”

“…I don’t know what you mean,” Mikey replied quietly.

“ _This,”_ Raph said, jabbing a finger at Mikey’s maskless face and the bags around his eyes. “That’s not you. None of this is you! You’re the guy who makes dumb inappropriate jokes and won’t stop fucking laughing all the time, not- not whatever the hell this is. It’s been a whole damn month, Mikey, get up and stop having a pity party.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Mikey asked, his voice finally going above a whisper. “What if I _can’t?”_

Raph grit his teeth, and scowled at his brother. “Then grow up, and actually try at something for once.”

Raph just wanted things to back to normal, for Mikey smile and laugh and stop being so damn sad all the time. Raph wanted to stop seeing his brother falling off that roof, to stop dreaming of not catching him in time. He wanted Mikey to be happy again, be himself again.

Raph just wanted his brother back.

Mikey didn’t take his words that way.

 

 

Four weeks…

Mikey screamed.

 

 

“Try at something? _Try at something?!”_ Mikey shouted, throwing his blanket off and standing up. “What do you think I’ve been doing for _years_ now? Do you think I _want_ to be like this? Do you think I’m doing this _on purpose?!_ ”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Raph growled back at him. “All I know is that you’ve-“

“No, _no._ You don’t know _anything_ about what I’ve been doing,” Mikey said, feeling the weights of numbness in his body be eaten away by fierce and burning _anger_. “Do you know how flipping long I’ve been holding on? How many years I’ve been pushing and pushing and _pushing_ myself to keep going, even when all I wanted to do was lie down and _die?!_ I’m tired all the time, I don’t want to eat, and nothing makes me feel _anything_ \- No!” Mikey cut Raph off before he could begin again. He’d listen to them all, for years and years he let them talk over him. Raph wanted him to stand up? Fine then, he’d stand up. “You’re going to hear what I have to say. You’re going to listen to _me_ this time.”

“What’s going on?” Leo demanded, rushing into the room. Mikey ignored him, taking steps towards Raph.

“I’ve been trying for years now, to figure why I’m so messed up inside, and lemme tell you, I got a whole lot of _nothing_ to answer that question with. I have no idea why I’m fucked up, or- or why I can’t fix it. I’m exhausted all the time, no matter how much I sleep! I can’t keep myself focused for more than a few seconds, because _nothing interests me anymore!_ I look at my comics or the TV or you guys and I feel _nothing._ I’m numb everywhere and it _hurts_!” Mikey screamed, fists balled and everything pouring out from inside him. “I don’t know why, okay?! All of you keep asking why I tried to kill myself and _I_ _don’t have an answer._ I just wanted it to end, the aching and exhaustion and the never ending hurt, okay?! _You don’t get to judge me, because you don’t know how much it hurts!_

“I tried, I tried so hard to be the guy you wanted, to laugh and smile and be the goofball fuckup, but I just _can’t_ anymore. I don’t remember the last time I _actually_ smiled, or the last time I laughed and _meant it_. I’m tired and done with struggling and _none of you saw it anyways,_ so why the heck not, why don’t I just _kill myself_ and get it over with already! Make it easier on everyone and just _disappear!”_

Mikey grabbed Raph’s shoulders, pulling his brother down so he could shout every word in his face. “I _hate_ myself, for fucking weak I am, for what a goddamn screw up I am! You know why I haven’t stopped moping around here? _It’s because I still want to die._ I didn’t ask you to save me, and I’m sure as hell not thanking you for it now. Does that make you happy? _Is that the answer you wanted?!”_

“Mikey-” Raph choked, eyes wide with shock.

_“I JUST WANT IT TO STOP!”_ Mikey screamed at him. _“I WANT TO DIE SO THE PAIN WILL STOP! DO YOU GET IT NOW?! I WANT MY BRAIN TO SHUT UP AND LET ME REST! I WANT MY BODY TO STOP HURTING EVERY SINGLE SECOND I’M AWAKE!”_

Mikey shoved Raph away, hard enough that his brother fell backwards onto the floor, and Raph stared up at Mikey in a way that made him feel sick.

Mikey bared his teeth, tears rolling down his cheeks as he screamed louder. “ _I WANT TO DIE! WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST LET ME DIE?!”_

Raph’s horrified expression, much like the one he’d had on the roof, answered none of Mikey’s questions.

Mikey stumbled backwards, covering his eyes and letting loose the sound that had been building inside him for years.

He screamed, and that scream became a howl. That howl turned into a wail, and the wail filled the entirety of the room; echoing off the dark arches and swelling until Mikey could hear nothing else.

Mikey just wanted it to end, for the hurt to stop, he wanted it to be over, just let it be over, please let it stop, make it stop, _make it stop-_

He screamed and wailed and clawed at himself until someone’s hands held his, soft and warm arms wrapping around him and holding him tightly as Mikey let every bit of his pain out.

Mikey sobbed into his father’s robe, knees giving out and dropping to the floor. He just wanted the pain to stop, why wouldn’t it _stop?!_

Mikey’s father held him as the waves of anguish rose and drowned out everything, his pain and rage and misery mixing together in his chest and searing like fire. Mikey’s numbness was chased away, replaced with magma that burned through every part of him.

He cried and screamed and begged for an end, until finally, he ran out of tears.

Mikey lay limply in his father’s hold, no strength left to even hold himself up. He felt like someone had scrapped his insides with a grater, shredding everything into little pieces.

Mikey’s eyes were stinging, and his throat felt scratchy and raw. He felt raw basically everywhere.

His father’s hands though, were soft and soothing; pads running over Mikey’s shell ridges, delicate but firm, letting him know that Splinter was there.

Mikey closed his eyes, and fell into darkness.

 

 

 

When he woke again, he cried a bit more, and told his father he was sorry. Sorry for crying, sorry for failing, sorry that he couldn’t be who they’d wanted.

Splinter hushed him, and told Mikey he was everything they wanted already, that just because he was having trouble right now, it didn’t mean he was any less in their eyes.

Mikey didn’t believe him, but accepted the glass of water and comforting hug anyways.

 

 

 

“I’m sorry,” Mikey whispered to Raph, the next time his brother visited him. “I didn’t mean-”

“No, no I deserved it,” Raph said, keeping his eyes on the floor. “I pushed you, even though Donnie told me not to. I said a bunch of stupid crap and I. upset you. And I’m sorry for that.”

“…I still shouldn’t have yelled at you like that,” Mikey said, raising himself from his pillow and sitting upright. “I didn’t mean a lot of that stuff, I was just… I lost control, is all. And I’m sorry that I aimed it at you.”

“Was the stuff about me… you know, saving you from falling…”

“Did I mean that?”

“Yeah.”

Mikey moistened his lips, still feeling parched after his break down yesterday. “…not sure. I don’t know how much of anything I mean anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Raph said again.

“For what?”

“Everything I guess, just… I’m sorry.” _That we didn’t see it sooner, see your struggle sooner._

Mikey nodded faintly, for once reading the subtext perfectly. “Yeah, me too.”

 

 

 

“I want you to try this drink, alright? I researched a number of choices and recipes, and this one is the best rated over all,” Donnie said, setting down a cup of smoothie on the table. “It’s supposed to encourage your immune system, as well as give you an extra pep in your step. It’s got kiwis, blue berries, apricots, carrots, and peaches; all things to give you that vitamin boost. I’ve added some protein powder and yogurt too. Make sure you drink every drop of it, and take your B-12’s, okay Mikey?”

No answer came, so Donnie turned around again from cleaning up. Mikey was staring at the cup and the three white pills beside it, seemingly lost in thought.

Donnie smiled sadly, and put down the cutting board he’d been holding. “Here, we’ll do it one at a time, okay?”

Donnie placed a white vitamin in Mikey’s hand, replacing it each time Mikey swallowed one. He stayed at the table until Mikey was done with his smoothie, and Donnie took the empty cup when Mikey set it down. Donnie’s little brother didn’t get up and leave though, remaining on his stool and staring at nothing.

Sometimes, even though Mikey was starting to get better, he’d relapse in random moments like this. Stopping in the middle of whatever he was doing, and drifting away from reality.

It was still better though, than the heart wrenching break down he’d had a week before. Donnie had heard Mikey’s voice, louder than it had been in days, and then the _screaming_ had started.

Up till that moment, Donnie had quietly been hoping things could resolve themselves without Mikey really getting hurt. But when Donnie had thrown open the doors of his lab, he’d found his brother wailing so loud Donnie’s ears had hurt. Raph had been on the floor, frozen by Mikey’s outburst, and Leo’s voice was lost in the cacophony their youngest brother was producing.

Donnie had been stuck in the threshold of his lab, unsure of what he was supposed to do, of what he _could_ do, until their father had swooped in; taking Mikey’s clutching hands away from his head and bundling Mikey into a hug.

Donnie couldn’t sleep that night; Mikey’s broken sobbing echoing too loudly in his mind.

Donnie finished drying the knives, and placed them in the correct draw. He wasn’t as good a cook as Mikey was, but he wasn’t as bad or messy as their brothers. Shutting the drawer, Donnie turned around and found Mikey exactly where he’d been when last he looked.

Mikey was quiet as Donnie led him out of the kitchen, bringing him back to the couch and handing him his blankets.

Yesterday, Mikey had been up and walking, he’d even managed a conversation with Donnie before training had begun for the three older brothers.

Today, he was silent, and it’d taken coaxing just to get him out of bed.

But he’d told Donnie he was feeling better the day before, that he wasn’t as tired, and Mikey had almost smiled when Donnie told him about an invention he was designing.

It was progress, even if Mikey took a step back sometimes.

Donnie turned on the television, and popped in a VHS tape from their collection of _Crognard the Barbarian_.

Donnie sat with Mikey on the couch, sharing the soft blankets with him.

Donnie would be patient, Mikey would get better given time and support, and Donnie had good practice playing the supporting role.

_(It was also that he understood. In the privacy of his lab and thoughts, Donnie realized he understood why Mikey had done the things he’d done._

_The hopelessness, the exhaustion, the desire for anything to bring an end to it; those things could drive you to the edge, until you teetered there uncertainly._

_Donnie understood too well that struggle, keeping your head up when you felt like you were drowning. Pushing yourself harder even when you wanted to give up, because people needed you still, because you couldn’t quit until the problem was solved._

_Donnie matched with more symptoms than was comfortable, and had more checked boxes than he liked. If he hadn’t had his experiments, April’s friendship, and his drive to protect their family, would he have ended up like Mikey?_

_A scared part of Donnie thought he still might, if he ever let the exhaustion get too close to his core.)_

Donnie laughed at the bad jokes of the eighties cartoon, because Mikey couldn’t that day, and that was fine.

_(Sometimes life could really get you down, and made even simple things too hard to handle.)_

When Mikey asked quietly if he could go to bed, Donnie shut the TV off and walked him there. The lair was empty except for them, their father having taken Raph and Leo for a one on two training mission.

Donnie picked up his book and reading light, and settled down on a bean bag in the media pit. He’d get his share of training tomorrow; right now it was his job to keep an eye on Mikey.

Mikey was getting better, yes, but relapses happened, and would keep happening. It was a war of small battles, won and lost constantly.

_(Donnie wished sometimes, that he didn’t understand so well.)_

Donnie turned the page of his psychology and mental health textbook, and listened to the calm silence of his home.

 

 

 

A month and a half after he jumped, Mikey was allowed to have his room back. No locks though, and he had to let someone know where he was at all times.

He started training again, meditative exercises and stretches. Sometimes he could make it through a session with his Sensei without stopping, sometimes he had to pause and rest. Sometimes he’d only make it to the dojo, and then he’d have to sit down and breathe for a while.

Mikey’s father let him move at his own pace, and he was grateful for that.

Mikey listened to the advice Donnie gave, and to the self-help tips his father worked into their sessions. He listened and tried to remember to use them when he started thinking too hard, when he started feeling too tired to even breathe and dreamt of the sidewalk nine miles away.

He ate what his family cooked for him, remembered to take his vitamins, and tried to sleep the right number of hours. Sometimes it was enough, and Mikey would be able to go through his day and not feel like dying.

Sometimes it wasn’t, and on those days he stayed silent, wrapped in blankets and sat next to someone who’d watch him.

He still felt numb, still felt tired, but it was bearable for the most part.

 

 

 

Three months after, and people still tip toed around Mikey, unsure what might set him off.

Mikey hated it almost as much as he’d hated sleeping out in the open, the eyes that followed his every movement.

He didn’t feel as numb anymore, but his anger had taken much of its place, and it was hard to stop himself from lashing out.

Mikey wasn’t even sure what he was angry at, just that he was.

He spent a lot of time with Raph, taking walks in the tunnels near their home. Raph didn’t push him anymore, and let Mikey talk if he wanted, or not talk if that’s what he needed that day.

Raph didn’t pretend like Leo did, that everything was fine and okay. He didn’t poke at Mikey’s depression either though, and that was good, because that’s what Donnie helped Mikey with.

Raph let Mikey be, and provided a listening audience on their walks.

Raph might not understand why Mikey felt the way he did, but Raph didn’t ask him to be anything other than himself anymore. They’d talked it out, and agreed no more pretending, no more lies; even if the truth was hard, and it scared them both.

Mikey was allowed to not smile, to not joke about everything, and it felt like a burden had been lifted.

Mikey still hurt, still sometimes dreamt of the sidewalk, but neither as strongly anymore.

  


 

Four months and Mikey left the lair with his father, racing across the roof tops of their city.

He wove and jumped and leaped across building gaps, stories above the ground.

He’d only wanted to fall little bit by then, just the slightest temptations to screw up on purpose and plummet to the sidewalks below.

But he knew that his father was watching him, and that Splinter’s arms would be around him the moment Mikey looked like he might fall.

Mikey enjoyed the fresh night air, and smiled momentarily at the sky above.

He cooked a late dinner that night, and when Leo walked into the kitchen, finding Mikey with a spatula in hand and a mixing bowl on the counter, Mikey was half sure his older brother started crying.

The fact that all three of his brothers, and their Sensei, took the time to gather for the small meal he made, warmed Mikey to his core.

 

 

 

Five months, and a relapse came violently and suddenly.

Mikey dreamt of space and sidewalks and suffocating blackness, the three mixing together until he wasn’t sure which was which anymore.

He woke each time more tired than when he’d gone to sleep, frustrated and aching.

What interest he’d regained, he lost again. Numbness flooded back through his body, and erased everything good he’d gotten back.

He wanted to try again, make another attempt and have it be a success this time.

Mikey moved back into the dojo, right beside his father’s room, because he couldn’t trust himself anymore.

If it wasn’t numbness, it was mind melting pain. Mikey’s chest feeling like there was a hole punched through it, his head buzzing like angry hornets.

He couldn’t figure out what caused it, the sudden up swing of his depression.

_(It never really left, just lying quiet and hidden; lurking just beneath his thoughts, waiting for a chance to fully return.)_

When his brothers and their friends returned, having gone to the farm house to retrieve any useful Kraang tech from the space ship there, Mikey felt badly for being unable to even greet them properly.

_(They’d only been gone for a few days, and he’d broken down so quickly.)_

Donnie took one look at Mikey, and hurried him into the lab. Emergency hot chocolate stores and a conversation partner who hadn’t been planning on sleep anyways; Donnie kept Mikey company and talked over the static in his head, the steady flow of verbal paragraphs quieting it.

_(Mikey felt ashamed of himself, embarrassed by how much he needed his family around in order to even function.)_

Mikey fell asleep at one of the lab tables, Donnie’s voice filling the gap in chest, and easing the static back to barely there noise.

He woke up on his futon, and had breakfast waiting on a tray beside him. The messy eggs and burnt toast telling him exactly which brothers had made it for him.

Mikey was able to go back to his room within just a few days, and his dreams stopped being of sidewalks and darkness.

 

 

 

Six months, seven months, eight months, time marched on and Mikey got better. The months filled with small victories, and big ones too.

He went on patrol, he fought alongside his family, he fell back into pace with their strides.

Mikey ran across roof tops and barely glanced at the sidewalks below, too focused on making the next jump, following the steps of his brothers.

He laughed, he smiled, and he only did it when it was genuine. It wasn’t as often as his fake ones had been, those constant and aching expressions, but it was enough for him.

He slipped up, he stumbled sometimes, but he was caught each time by one or all of his brothers. Hauled back up, put on his feet, and given a gentle shove forwards. They didn’t let him fall again.

He got up on his own each day, he cooked breakfast for himself and everyone else, and his dreams were only about the strange and wondrous things he’d always dreamt of.

Nine months, ten months, and onwards. Mikey found his footing and started running again, racing forwards in time with his family. He wasn’t running from himself anymore, so each step was sure, and he stopped second guessing every stride he made.

His bad days came; his bad days went, fewer and fewer as they did. Mikey laughed and smiled and found again the person he’d always been.

He’d never be the perfectly happy, smiles all the time guy. He wasn’t always going to have a joke to crack or have limitless optimism about life.

But that was okay, because Mikey kept going anyways, and his family loved him all the same.

 

 

 

Months after, Mikey looked up at the sky and realized he was still there, still with his family even after everything.

Bad moments came, and he got through each one that did. He kept breathing, kept moving forwards, and never let the hurt drag him back down.

His brothers, his father, his friends, they supported him every step of the way.

He wasn’t alone, he knew that now.

 

 

 

Years after, when the night above the sidewalk had become just a memory, Mikey smiled with sincerity, laughed freely, and felt alive.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kay. So. Much thanks for my beta reader and partner, though you all don't know them, they're the one who read this fic and gave me the feedback I needed to complete the thing.
> 
> Do I have a reason for writing this? Partially venting I think, since about half a month ago things were kind of snarly up in my head, and I needed somewhere to put those snarls. Mikey/the flashfic prompt just provided a solid outlet, and here we are.
> 
> Do I think Mikey actually suffers from depression in canon? Nah, if anyone would it might be Donnie; the amount of pressure they're putting on him lately has been immense. Give the kid a fricking break already. Though I still often HC Mikey having ADHD and such, since it just fits really in my opinion.
> 
> Hm. I don't think I have much else to say here.
> 
> Well people, lemme know what you thought of sad Mikey; I'm kind of wavering on the worth of this fiction, and was actually considering not posting it. Give me some feedback and/or support for this, and idk, dash those fears if you wouldn't mind.
> 
> Enjoy your day.


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